to the same subject. "A chemical [To be continued.] L'ALLEGRO. No. IX. GENUINE EPISTLE OF A Warren Hasting East Indiaman, off Gravesend, 24 March, 1813. Dear Bror Tom, This cums hopein to find you in good helth as it leaves me save ankord here yesterday at 4 P. M. arter a plesant voyage tolerable short and few squalls. Dear Tom-hopes to find poor old Father stout, am quite out of pigtail. Sights of pigtail at Gravesend, but unfortinly not fit for a dog to chor. Dear Tom-Captins boy will bring you this, and put pigtail in his pocket when bort. Best in London at the black boy in 7 diles, where go, aks for best pigtail, pound a pigtail will do, and am short of shirts. Dear Tom-as for shirts only took 2, whereof 1 is quite wore out, and tuther most, but dont forget the pigtail, as I ant had nere a quid to chor never sins Thursday. Dear Tom-as for the shirts, your size will do, only longer. I liks um long, get one at present, best at Tower Hill and cheap, but be particler to go to 7 diles for the pigtail at the black boy, and Dear Tom-aks for a pound of best pigtail and let it be good. Captains boy will put the pigtail in his pocket; he liks pigtail so tie it up. Dear Tom-shall be up about Monday there or thereabouts. Not so pertickler for the shirt as the present can be washed; but don't forget the pigtail without fail so am your loving brother T. P. P.S. Dont forget the pigtail. An artist of the name of Forfeit having some job to do for Foote, and keeping it long after the time when he promised to bring it home, was making his apology by saying-" he had got CHARACTERS. The Cockney. -: The cockney lives in a go-cart of local prejudices and positive allusions; and when he is turned out of it, he hardly knows how to stand or move. He ventures through Hyde Park Corner as a cat crosses a gutter. The trees pass by the coach very oddly. The country has a strange blank appearance. It is not lined with houses all the way like London. He comes to places he never saw or heard of. He finds the world bigger than he thought it. He might have dropped from the moon, for any thing he knows of the matter. He is mightily disposed to laugh, but is half afraid of making some blunder. Between sheepishness and conceit, he is in a very ludicrous situation. He finds that the people walk on two legs, and wonders to hear them talk a dialect so different from his own. He perceives London fashions have got down into the country before him, and that some of the better sort are dressed as well as he is. A drove of pigs or cattle stopping the road is a very troublesome interruption. A crow in the field, a magpie in the hedge, are to him very odd animals-he can't tell what to make of them, or how they live. He does not like the accommodations at the inns-it is not what he has been used to. He begins to be communicative-says he was "born within the sound of Bow bells," and attempts some jokes at which nobody laughs. He asks the coachman à question to which he receives answer. All this is to him very unaccountable and unexpected. arrives at his journey's end, and in. stead of being the great man he anti. no He cipated among his friends and country relations, finds they are barely civil to him, or make a butt of him; have topics of their own which he is as completely ignorant of, as they are indifferent to what he says, so that he is glad to get back to London again; where he meets with his favorite indulgences and associates, and fancies the whole world is occupied with what he hears and sees. It is curious to see to what a degree persons brought up in certain occupations in a great city, are shut out from a knowledge of the world, and carry their simplicity to a pitch of unheardof extravagance. London is the only place in which the child grows completely up into the man. A Man without Money: A man without money is a body without a soul- a walking death-a spectre that frightens every one. His countenance is sorrowful, and his conversation languishing and tedious. If he calls upon an acquaintance he never finds him at home, and if he opens his mouth to speak, he is interrupted every moment, so that he may not have a chance to finish his discourse, which, it is feared, will end with his asking for money. He is avoided like a person infected with disease, and is regarded as an incumbrance to the earth. Want wakes him up in the morning, and misery accompanies him to his bed at night. The ladies discover that he is an awkward boobylandlords believe that he lives upon air, and if he wants any thing from a tradesman, he is asked for cash before delivery. THE HOUSEWIFE. No. X. METHOD OF RESTORING PERSONS APPARENTLY DROWNED. Avoid all rough usage. Do not hold up the body by the feet, or roll it on casks, or rub it with salt, or spirits, or apply tobacco. Lose not a moment. Carry the body, the head and shoulders raised, to the nearest house. Place it in a warm room. Let it be instantly stripped, dried, and wrapped in hot blankets, which are to be renewed when necessary. Keep the mouth, nostrils, and the throat free and clean. Apply warm substances to the back, spine, pit of the stomach, arm-pits, and soles of the feet. Rub the body with heated flannel, or warm hands. Attempt to restore breathing, by gently blowing with bellows into one nostril, closing the mouth and the other nostril. Keep up the application of heat. Press down the breast carefully with both hands, and then allow it to rise again, and thus imitate natural breathing. Continue the rubbing, and increase it when life appears, and then give a teaspoonful of warm water, or of very weak wine, or spirits and water warm. Persevere for six hours. Send quickly for medical assistance. A correspondent informs us, that a composition of the following dried herbs is much superior to coffee or tea, inasmuch as the infusion will invigorate instead of debilitating the nervous system, and of course strengthen the stomach:-Rosemary leaves 2 oz. sage leaves 4 ditto, rose leaves 4 ditto, peach leaves 3 ditto, hyssop leaves 4 ditto, balm leaves 4 ditto, male speedwell 4 ditto; a wine glass is sufficient to make a pint infusion. FOR CLEANING ALL SORTS OF METAL. Mix half-a-pint of refined neat's-foot oil, and half-a-gill of spirits of turpentine, and scrape a little rotten-stone; wet a woollen rag therewith, and after dipping it into the scraped rotten-stone, rub the metal well; wipe off with a ther and more of the kernel. In resoft cloth, and polish with a dry leaspect of steel, if it be very rusty, use liquid on a separate woollen rag first. a little powder of pomice with the FOR DESTROYING BUGS. Three ounces of unction, and the same quantity of sweet oil, and also of camphor powdered-mix all these together, and put some in the joints of the bedsteads, or whatever place is affected. Put also some on a sheet of brown, or any other stiff paper, on the tester of the bed. AMERICAN RECIPE FOR THE RHEUMATISM. Take of garlick two cloves; of gum ammoniac one drachm; blend them by bruising together; make them into two or three bolusses with clean water, and swallow one at night and one in the morning; drink, while taking this mixture, sassafras tea, made strong, so as to have the tea-pot filled with chips. This is generally found to banish the rheumatism, and even contractions of the joints, in a few times taking. It is very famous in America, and 1001. has been given for the recipe. EASY AND EFFECTUAL CURE FOR WENS. Put a quantity of salt and water into a saucepan, and boil it for four minutes; with which bathe the whole surface frequently while it continues warm, as also after it becomes cold, so often as 10 or 12 times daily; always stirring up the salt deposited at the bottom of the basin, and incorporating it again with the water, before it is applied. In some cases, this has caused a cure in 30 days; but the patient must not be disheartened, if it should take a much longer time. FOR ASTHMA. Eating some ounces of the best honey daily, has been productive of the very best consequences in some constitutions. As also taking about a teaspoonful of white mustard seed bruised, and made into a bolus with a very little honey, two or three hours before going to bed, and also as much more as soon as the patient wakes in the morning. Two or three dishes of coffee, as hot as a person can possibly drink it, immediately before going to bed half an ounce at least to every cup, has given great relief. That whisper in melody, as they glide, To the flowers that blush along the tide. Sorrow ne'er came to that blissful shore, For no mortal has entered that isle before. There the Halcyon waits on the sparkling strand, Till the bark of her lover, the Nautilus, land; She spreads her purple wings to the air, And she sees his fragile vessel there; She sees him float on the summer sea, Where no breath but the sigh of his love may be. SONG. I wove my fair a leafy bower, The snow-drop meek and lowly, I sat within that bower's cool shade And hedged it round with roses; That I still watch there hour, and hour, While the dull world reposes. That there I whisper the wan moon She said that "night bowers are not good," That" when the moon-beam sleepeth, Love lays his snares for maidenhood, And oft repentance creepeth." THE TRYSTIN' TREE. When winds are still and silent eve Comes stealing slowly o'er the lea; O then, dear maid, thy cottage leave, And meet me at the Trystin' tree: For 'neath its shade, in times gone by, Have lovers breathed their hopes and fears: Its leaves have trembled in their sigh Its roots have fed upon their tears." And fear not, though the star of night In envy shall forget to shine; Perchance the wand'ring glow-worm's light May lead thee to these arms of mine: But, if no lights from earth or sky, To guide a lover's path you see; Then use the lustre of thine eye, And bright as noon the eve will be. When thou art there, far, far away Shall each unruly passion flee, And Tiviot's stream will ling'ring stay, To hear my vows of love to thee. The winds are still, and silent eve Comes stealing slowly o'er the lea, O now, dear maid, thy cottage leave, And meet me at the Trystin' tree. FROM THE NATIONAL SONGS OF SCOTLAND. O, MARY, TURN AWA. O, Mary, turn awa, That bonny face o'thine, E'er cool my bosom's care? Then, Mary, turn awa, That bonnie face o'thine; My heart is laden sair, An o'er my breast the grass maun Though Time hath not wreathed The eyes which behold thee, Their brightness is flown; Enfeebled are grown. For thou, too, art chang'd! My ripening years; I sigh for repose. The world shall caress thee When I cease to be; R. S. "We ought not, like the spider, to spin a flimsy web wholly from our own magazine; but, like the bee, visit every store, and cull the most useful and the best."-GREGORY. HUMOROUS ACCOUNT OF A POOR FIDDLER. THE PASS OF HOTTENTOT HOLLAND'S KLOFFE. THIS pass is, perhaps, one of the most surprising works of nature. It is situated about thirty English miles east of the Cape Town, Cape of Good Hope, between two of the highest mountains of that immense ridge, which runs almost right across the Peninsula, and stretches from the east to the west, shutting in the Hottentot country. This is the only communication from Cape Town, into that country, either for waggons or cattle. An enemy, by taking possession of it, (and it might be defended by one hundred men against a whole army), would cut off all manner of supplies from the Cape Town; and by thus severing the communication with the inland country, render abortive any assistance that might be drawn from thence, either with respect to supplies, or an army. The country between the Hottentot and Cape Town is perhaps the most barbarous in its nature, except a small spot, well-known for its production of the wine called Constantia. VOL. I. A poor fiddler is a man and fiddle out of case, and he is in worse case than his fiddle. One that rubs two sticks together (as the Indians strike fire) and rubs a poor living out of it; partly from this, and partly from your charity, which is more in the hearing than the giving him, for he sells nothing dearer than to be gone. He is just so many strings above a beggar, though he have but two, and yet he begs too, only not in the downright for God's sake, but with a shrugging God bless you; and his face is more pin'd than the blind man's. Hunger is the greatest pain he takes, except a broken head sometimes, and the labouring John Dory. Otherwise his life is so many fits of mirth, and tis sometimes mirth to see him. A good feast shall draw him five miles by the nose, and you shall track him again by the scent. His other pilgrimages are fairs and good houses, where his devotion is great to the R |